


One Of Those Couples

by hachoo



Series: Imagine Me And You [3]
Category: The Hobbit RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Fingering, Fluff, M/M, Orgasm Denial, Smut, not kidding about the fluff, woah this sounds kinkier than i expected
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-30
Updated: 2013-10-30
Packaged: 2017-12-30 22:53:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1024355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hachoo/pseuds/hachoo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s their first time visiting family as a couple. Aidan’s determined to make a good impression and Dean – Dean thinks he finally gets it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Of Those Couples

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to my dear Gummy, without whom this fic would never have been finished. 
> 
> I apologise in advance for the excessive fluff and novice smut. I'm on a learning curve here.

\--

They spend their second Easter break as a couple in New Zealand. Aidan gets two weeks off work because of school holidays so Dean begs time off from Richard. He has to cover several extra shoots the week before they leave to make up for it but eventually Friday morning hits and they’re packing their bags and hailing a taxi. 

The flight is long. They fly to LA first and then have a brief stopover before going on to New Zealand. They end up spending more than 24 hours in the air and usually Dean would try and sleep for most of the flight (he’s done this trip several times, he knows the drill) but this time Aidan’s with him. Aidan, who’s never flown any further than Ireland (and Dean’s not even sure if that counts as a proper flight because really, one hour and ten minutes? He’s spent more time in traffic than that). Aidan, who skims through all the movies they have playing, before turning to Dean with a pout. 

“Entertain me,” he says and Dean raises an eyebrow. 

“What are you, ten?” He asks, shifting in his seat to get comfortable. As comfortable as he can be in economy, that is. Aidan retaliates by poking out his tongue. 

“Come on, we’ve still got hours left. What do you normally do?”

“Sleep.”

“Sleeping’s _boring_.”

“Not when you’ve got another 24 hours of flying to do.”

Inevitably Dean does entertain Aidan; he tells him more about New Zealand, about his old place. He describes his family, gives Aidan tips on what topics will earn him brownie points and what will cause arguments. Their lunch arrives in a tin foil container and Aidan prods at it with a disdainful look.

“It doesn’t look like the picture,” he complains and Dean has to hold back a grin because Aidan’s pouting, properly pouting at his _food_.

“It’ll taste even worse,” he says as he removes the lid of his own lunch. He wishes he’d been able to get his camera out fast enough to capture the look of horror on Aidan’s face.

Aidan’s placated by the complementary ice cream, takes great joy in snagging Dean’s when he’s only half finished. Dean retaliates by stealing Aidan’s chocolate and they bicker like children for a few minutes until Aidan suddenly leans over and kisses Dean, slow and deep and definitely not appropriate considering they’re on a plane. When he eventually draws back Dean tries to follow, feeling lightheaded and slightly dizzy even though he’s sitting down. He glances around but no-one seems to have noticed; the guy sitting next to them is already asleep, falling victim to the post-lunch nap. 

“What-?” Dean starts to ask. Aidan shrugs. 

“Just- I love you, yeah?” He says quietly. His gaze is intense and Dean can feel his cheeks heating up. He reaches for Aidan’s hand, winds their fingers together. 

“I love you too, you egg. What’s brought this on?” He asks. Aidan shrugs again, glances down at their intertwined fingers and smiles softly. When he looks back up his gaze is adoring and Dean kind of feels like the luckiest man alive.

Aidan looks like he’s about to say something but then the man beside them lets out a loud snort and turns in his seat to face them. He’s still asleep but Dean reluctantly lets go of Aidan’s hand just in case. The ice cream’s melting on Aidan’s tray, a growing pool of orange slowly taking over and Aidan’s gazing mournfully at the mess until Dean hands him the chocolate. It’s a small price to pay for the smile he receives. 

 

\--

 

By the time they get to LA they’re both utterly exhausted and feeling the strain of being cramped in one position for too long. They have over seven hours in transit so they wander around the airport, stretching their legs and grabbing a cup of coffee and a meal. Aidan’s boundless energy seems to have returned, judging by the bounce in his step, the grin adorning his face. 

“Dean, look!” He declares every few minutes, pointing to something that’s drawn his attention. Dean’s beginning to feel like he’s looking after a five year old and the feeling only intensifies when Aidan goes and buys a Happy Meal from McDonalds because he “felt like it”. 

They head towards their gate about an hour before boarding and grab two free seats. Aidan promptly curls up in his, one leg tucked beneath him, head resting on Dean’s shoulder. 

“Don’t fall asleep,” Dean says as he prods Aidan’s shoulder lightly.

“I’m not,” Aidan complains, batting away the offending hand. But he is and he does, forehead pressed to Dean’s neck as his warm breath tickles Dean’s skin. He subconsciously raises a hand to Aidan’s hair, fingers sinking beneath the curls to rub at Aidan’s scalp. It’s almost second nature to do so when Aidan falls asleep; he knows it’s calming, knows it relaxes Aidan further.

There are two kids staring at them and Dean feels slightly self conscious. He goes to move his hand but then Aidan made some sort of snuffling noise against his neck, a little whine and Dean immediately drops his hand back to Aidan’s curls, fingers rubbing softly until he feels Aidan’s body slump further against his. It’s another twenty minutes until their flight is called and he spends it playing with Aidan’s hair and he feels like he should be embarrassed about this but he’s not. 

“Aid, it’s time to board the plane,” he says quietly, nudging at Aidan’s shoulder. Aidan stirs with a groan, blinks blearily at Dean before smiling sleepily. 

“I feel asleep, didn’t I,” he notes, stretching in his chair. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to. You should have woken me up.”

“You looked too peaceful,” Dean says truthfully and Aidan laughs, nudges his shoulder playfully but he keeps shooting Dean soft glances as they line up. And when he takes hold of Dean’s hand as they wait to board, Dean just links their fingers and doesn’t let go. 

 

\--

 

They get to Auckland airport closer to six in the morning local time. The majority of the flight from LA was spent sleeping, curled up as best they could in their economy seating. Aidan’s still half asleep as they collect their bags, stretching his arms and legs every so often with a slight grimace. Dean knows the feeling; he’s been doing the flight for eight years and still isn’t used to how cramped his muscles feels by the end. He can’t imagine what poor Aidan’s going through. 

They get a taxi from the airport because Dean hadn’t wanted to bother his parents with picking them up so early. Aidan’s quiet the entire way, at first enthralled by the sight of a new country and then overcome with nerves. The closer they get to Dean’s parent’s place, the more anxious Aidan gets. He begins by drumming his fingers distractedly against his knee until Dean grabs his hand. Then it’s his foot, tapping against floor. It’s when he begins nibbling on his lip, a habit he only reverts back to when he’s truly nervous, that Dean decides its time to intervene. 

“Hey. My parents are going to love you,” he says firmly. Aidan looks at him with big eyes shining with uncertainty.

“What if they don’t?” He asks. “Shit, Dean, I don’t want to mess this up.”

“You _won’t_ ,” Dean stresses, giving Aidan’s fingers a reassuring squeeze. “They’ve already talked to you on Skype and they loved you. Meeting them in person isn’t going to change that; if anything they’ll love you more.”

Aidan lets out a little “awww” at that, pokes Dean’s side teasingly.

“Shove off,” Dean says, laughing. But he’d take all the ribbing in the world if it meant easing Aidan’s nerves. 

By the time they get to his parent’s house its closer to nine and their stomachs are growling for breakfast. They unload their bags from the trunk, pay the driver and then its time to approach the house. Dean takes a step forward, glances back and finds Aidan staring up with something like fear in his eyes. He reaches out and takes Aidan’s hand. 

“Everything’s going to be fine,” he says and Aidan nods wordlessly. They ring the doorbell and wait, hearts pounding. Dean’s not sure why he’s nervous exactly, but he is. And then the door flings open and his mother is hugging him tightly. 

“Welcome home darling,” she says when she draws back. “You’ve done something different, did you get a haircut?”

“Yeah I did.”

“At least let them in the house before you smother them Vicky,” he hears his dad call from the living room and Vicky tuts but complies. Dean pulls Aidan in with him, leaves their bags standing beside a wall and enters the living room where his dad is standing. Vicky follows them in moments later, moves to stand beside her husband. 

“Mum, dad, this is Aidan,” Dean says with a grand sweep of his hand. He knows they all know each other but it seems different, meeting in real life. Aidan’s hand is still clutched firmly in his own and he’s fairly certain Aidan’s holding his breath, waiting for a reaction. 

“Aidan, it’s so wonderful to finally meet you!” Vicky says, stepping forward and gathering Aidan in for a warm hug. Aidan seems to deflate in relief at the acceptance and returns the hug with enthusiasm. 

“The pleasure’s all mine,” he says as they part with a wide grin. 

“Oh and you’re even more handsome in real life.”

“Mum!” 

Aidan’s flushed bright red, ducks his head. 

“Well he is!”

“Aidan, it’s nice to meet you,” Dean’s father says, offering his hand which Aidan takes immediately, makes sure his handshake is nice and firm like Dean taught him. 

“You too Mr O’Gorman.”

“Call me Lance, son. Mr O’Gorman was my father.”

“Oh right, okay. Lance.”

Now that the introductions are over Aidan looks far happier and Dean can tell both his parents are already taken by his boyfriend. He claps his hands together, drawing their attention. 

“Okay, now that the introductions are over, is there any chance we could get breakfast?”

 

\--

 

They have a barbeque on Easter Monday, sort of a combined ‘welcome home’ for Dean and a ‘welcome to the country’ for Aidan. There’s family members Dean hasn’t seen in years, aunts and uncles and cousins and people he’s known his whole life that he’s not actually related to but still calls them family anyway. They’re all delighted to see him and Dean finds he’s actually surprisingly happy to see them too, happy to be home surrounded by his family. 

He introduces Aidan to all of them, of course. “This is my boyfriend Aidan,” he says nonchalantly, one hand resting on the small of Aidan’s back. They all know of Dean’s preference for men, it’s never been a secret. Most of them seem quite happy that Dean’s found someone; the last time he had introduced anyone to his family had been when he was still in his mid twenties. And Aidan’s pulling out all the stops; wide grins and loud laughter and that irresistible Irish charm. He plays hide and seek with Dean’s younger relatives, charms all the women with his self deprecating humour and cheerful nature and wins over the men when he manages to prevent a potential disaster with the barbeque. 

And even with all that he still finds time to periodically return to Dean’s side, offering him a soft smile and occasionally a kiss on the cheek. Dean’s not any better, constantly sneaking looks towards Aidan in the middle of a conversation just to make sure he’s okay. The fifth time it happens one of his cousins snorts and asks whether they’ve set the date yet. It takes an embarrassingly long time for Dean to process what that means and once he does he can’t stop blushing. 

“You okay?” Aidan asks softly as he once more lopes to Dean’s side, taking in his boyfriend’s red cheeks. Dean nods, avoids eye contact with his cousin who he _knows_ is smirking at them. 

“I’m fine,” he manages to get out. 

“Had too much to drink?”

“You’d know if I’d had too much to drink.” And it’s true because Dean’s a notorious lightweight; he’d be far more giggly and far less inhibited. Aidan nods in acknowledgement, slides a hand around Dean’s waist and introduces himself to Dean’s cousin, who is positively _beaming_ by this point.

“So how long have you known each other for?” She asks innocently. 

“Known each other?” 

They glance at each other uncertainly, not quite sure what qualifies as ‘knowing’. Dean’s certainly ‘known’ of Aidan’s _existence_ for over five years but does that qualify as knowing _Aidan_? 

“Well Dean moved into the apartment behind mine over five years ago,” Aidan says eventually, glancing at Dean. “We’ve been dating nearly two years now.”

Dean ducks his head at the fond look Aidan’s shooting him, the fond look his cousin is shooting _both_ of them. “Yeah,” he tells his feet and Aidan laughs, kisses him very gently on the corner of his lips and it’s so very reminiscent of the first kiss Aidan ever gave him and now Dean’s more flushed than ever. 

“Dean! Dear, could you help me with the salads?” Vicky calls out from inside the house and Dean gratefully excuses himself from the conversation, giving Aidan’s hand a quick squeeze as he leaves. 

“You’re awfully red,” Vicky notes as she hands him a tomato to slice. “Did something happen?”

“Do Aidan and I seem… domestic to you?” Dean asks after a long pause. Vicky looks surprised at the question. 

“Well yes. But you’ve been living together for quite some time now; it’s only to be expected.”

“I didn’t realise. But we’re like- we’re like one of those couples. You know, those couples,” Dean tries to explain, waving the tomato around. “The ones who are really…. couple-y.”

Vicky’s looking far too amused at Dean’s distress. “Is that a bad thing?” 

“I don’t know. Is it?”

“Does it feel like a bad thing to you?”

Dean’s quiet for a long time. “No,” he finally says slowly. “No, it doesn’t.”

“All right then. Now how about you actually slice that tomato instead of just hold it, hmm?”

Later, when everyone’s gone and they’re cleaning up, Dean reaches out to grab Aidan’s hand, gently kisses his knuckles. Aidan looks exhausted but he manages to smile at the gesture and his whole face lights up in turn. 

“Thank you,” Dean says. 

“For what?”

“For today. For every day.”

Aidan’s smile is more bemused than anything but he draws Dean close, presses their foreheads together so they’re breathing the same air. Dean closes the remaining distance, pushes himself up onto the balls of his feet and kisses Aidan lightly. 

“Oi, lovebirds! No kissing until the garden’s clean!” Brett hollers from where he’s energetically scrubbing down the barbeque. Dean groans against Aidan’s lips, flips the finger at his younger brother but nevertheless pulls back with a rueful grin. Aidan just laughs, plants a sweet kiss to the tip of Dean’s nose before grabbing a couple of chairs to stack in the garage. 

 

\--

 

Dean doesn’t mean to eavesdrop on the conversation. He’s just gotten out of the shower after taking Batman for a walk, and is heading to the lounge when he hears quiet voices from the kitchen and it sounds an awful lot like Aidan and Brett. Feeling curious, Dean sidles up to the door and presses his ear to it. 

“… know you’ll beat me up if I hurt him,” he hears Aidan say. 

“I will.”

“Then you’ll be happy to know I don’t have any intention of hurting him.”

“It’s too late for that mate, you already did.” And Dean knows that tone, can tell Brett’s got his arms crossed. 

“What? When?” 

“Two years ago. You never thought to ask him why he left London in the middle of the year for two weeks?” 

“I don’t-”

“He didn’t tell me much. Just said that the man he loved didn’t love him back. And he was really hurting, you know? Which just leaves me to wonder if you can do that to him once, what’s to say you won’t do it again?”

There’s a long pause and Dean shifts uncomfortably, not knowing whether he should intervene. He feels he should step in and explain the situation to Brett, explain that he and Aidan hadn’t even met each other then, that he’d just been over reacting, but there’s a part of him that wants to hear what Aidan has to say. 

“I didn’t know that’s why he left,” Aidan finally says quietly and he sounds young and broken and that’s when Dean decides its time to intervene. He pushes open the door, startling both occupants. 

“Dean!” Brett says in surprise. “Aidan and I were just talking about…” he glances over for help but Aidan’s looking at the ground, arms wrapped around himself. 

“I heard,” Dean says heavily and Aidan’s head snaps up. “Brett, I’m a grown man, I don’t need you scaring off my boyfriend.”  
“Consider it payback for that time in eleventh grade.”

“That was _one time_ ,” Dean protests. “And she just wanted you for your homework!”

“I was perfectly fine with that deal!”

They grin at each other for a moment until Dean remembers why he came into the kitchen in the first place. 

“You can’t blame Aidan for what happened before.”

“You said-”

“I know what I said. But I was stupid and I over reacted. Aidan and I weren’t dating at that point; we hadn’t even met yet. He was just the guy living next to me that I’d developed a crush on, nothing more. So don’t blame him for that, because he didn’t owe me anything.”

Brett frowns then sighs, nods reluctantly. 

“Brett, I didn’t- I would _never_ hurt Dean,” Aidan says quietly and they can all hear the ring of truth in his voice. Dean steps closer until his shoulder is brushing against Aidan’s, offers him a soft smile. 

“Well it appears I may have misjudged you, and I apologise for that,” Brett says formerly, extending his hand towards Aidan, who looks at it apprehensively before shaking it.

“Thank you.” Aidan’s voice is quiet though, distracted, and Dean knows they need to talk. He nods to Brett who gets the message, pats Aidan on the back.

“Take care of him,” he says as he walks past. Dean claps him on the shoulder in a wordless thanks. It’s only once the door’s closed behind Brett that he turns back to Aidan, tries to gauge his emotions. But Aidan’s face is unreadable so he takes his hand instead, runs his fingers over Aidan’s knuckles until he’s ready to talk. 

“You never told me I was the reason you left,” Aidan says quietly. Dean shrugs. 

“I didn’t think it was important.”

“Not importa- Dean, you flew halfway across the world to get away from me!”

“Don’t say it like that,” Dean groans. “Look, I heard you with her and I just- freaked out a little, alright? I just came back here for a little while to clear my head.”

“I’m sorry,” Aidan murmurs, ducking his head. “If I had known-”

“You didn’t know. Aid, we didn’t even know each other then. You met a girl at a bar, you hooked up with her. People do it all the time, you don’t have to feel guilty about it.”

“She was from New Zealand,” Aidan says after a pause.

“What?” 

“Yeah. I didn’t even- and then she started speaking and I recognised that accent because I’d heard you talking for so long and I wanted- but I didn’t know you and I just- she was there and-” Aidan waves his hands around in the air in explanation.  
“I don’t know whether to be touched or creeped out.”

“Maybe both,” Aidan suggests tentatively and Dean laughs, reaches up to cup Aidan’s face between his hands.

“I love you,” he says softly, kisses Aidan tenderly. Aidan’s eyelids flutter shut, lips yielding beneath Dean’s. They stay like that for a long time until Lance comes strolling in, yelps and runs back out again.

“Sock on the door!” He cries out and they collapse into embarrassed giggles against the kitchen counter. 

 

\-- 

 

It’s Aidan who suggests they go and see Dean’s old family house. He owns it now; his parents put it under his name once they’d paid the mortgage and moved out. But he hasn’t lived there in years, and he highly doubts he will anytime soon. It seems kind of pointless to go but Aidan is strangely insistent. They visit it on the way back from yet another detour to a tourist destination because Aidan loves seeing the sights, can’t get enough of them and Dean’s more than happy to take him, hasn’t visited most of these places in over ten years. He feels more at home than ever with Aidan standing beside him on the deck of Sky Tower, watching brave souls sky dive off the top. 

Dean’s brought his camera and he snaps photo after photo of Aidan with his nose pressed to the glass in awe, posing with the sky at his back, glancing down with childish delight at the glass floor panes. A kind woman offers to take their photo for them so Aidan scoots behind Dean, wraps his arms around Dean’s waist and places his chin upon Dean’s shoulder, beaming at the camera. It’s on the second shot that he plants a kiss to Dean’s cheek, and the third has them both grinning at each other (and the edges are slightly blurred and the lighting’s too harsh but it’s one of Dean’s favourite photos of them and he has it framed when they get back). 

It’s closer to evening than afternoon when they pull up into the driveway of his old house. There’s not much by way of a garden out front; there used to be trees when Dean was growing up but those are long gone, too hard to maintain. There are a few shrubs that need trimming and the mailbox is overflowing with catalogues and leaflets, but it still looks the same as it did all those years ago. 

Dean takes Aidan on a grand tour, leading him by the hand into every single room. It’s been years since he’s lived here but it’s instantly familiar. There’s still a lot of furniture including his old bed, bookshelves, a disconnected fridge, the dining table with mismatched chairs. He can tell someone (presumably his mum) has been back recently, tidying and dusting. They all know it’s useless to keep the house, that Dean’s not going to come back and neither is Brett going to move into it. But they’re reluctant to let it go and so it stays as it is, a little worse for wear but alight with years of memories. 

“This is where you grew up,” Aidan says softly. He’s glancing around in wonder, peeking around corners almost as if he expects to see a young Dean playing with toy soldiers in the next room.

“Yeah. We lived here until I was about twenty.”

“I should get your mum to tell me all your embarrassing baby stories.”

“I’ll have you know I was an adorable baby.”

“Not much has changed then.”

Aidan’s oddly solemn as they traipse through the kitchen, running his free hand along the counter top. Dean nudges his shoulder lightly, offers him a smile.

“What’s up?” He asks when he’s rewarded with only a half hearted grin. 

“Nothing.”

“Aid. Come on, tell me. What’s wrong?”

Aidan frowns, purses his lips for a moment before letting out an almighty sigh. He’s always had a flair for the dramatics, after all. 

“This is your home,” he says, gesturing around them.

“Yes,” Dean replies after a pause. Aidan frowns. 

“No, not this. This,” he repeats, gesturing wider. “Here. In New Zealand.”

Dean shakes his head, confused. “I don’t understand-”

“You _fit_ here, Dean. I mean you just- this is you, right here. You know the places, you know the people. Practically your entire extended family is here, and your parents and Brett as well. I just- you belong here. More than you belong in London.”

The last past is barely more than a whisper and Aidan’s refusing to look at him, staring resolutely at his feet. Dean’s heart sinks a little and he thinks he knows what this is about.

“Aidan,” he says, voice quiet but firm. “Aid, look at me.”

It takes a few moments but Aidan eventually looks up, eyes suspiciously bright. 

“You’re right, New Zealand is my home. I grew up here. I spend the first- god, twenty five years or so of my life living here. And yes, my mum and dad and Brett are here and they’re my home too. Just like Ireland is your home because you grew up there with your family.”

“It’s not the same,” Aidan interjects. “Ireland is only a few hours away. Dean, it takes you over a day to come back here.”

“You’re not listening to me. I’ve got a home here in New Zealand. But I’ve also got a home in London. With you.”

“Dean-”

“Aid, a home is more than just four walls.”

“I know that-”

“Our apartment in London is my home, just as my parent’s house here is my home. And my family is my home, just like _you_ are my home, because I love you.” 

Aidan’s silent, staring at him with dark eyes. Dean reached forward to clasp one of Aidan’s hands in his own, brings it up to his mouth to place a soft kiss to each knuckle. 

“I don’t care if I’m living here or in London, Aid. What matters to me is that I’m living with you.” 

There’s a heavy pause once he finishes speaking and he doesn’t dare move. Aidan’s blinking down at him, eyes wide and searching, gaze dropping from Dean’s face to their hands, still clasped together. And then he smiles and it’s as though the room is filled with sunshine. He pulls Dean forward, slides his hands down to Dean’s hips as he leans down for a kiss and Dean gladly responds, hands lightly fisting into Aidan’s curls. 

What begins as a light, loving kiss soon develops into something far more heated and Aidan’s hands have somehow found their way into the waistband of Dean’s jeans even as he licks into his mouth. They have a half hearted battle for dominance which finds Dean with his back pressed to the wall, head tilted back as Aidan heatedly sucks bruises on the underside of his jaw. He yanks lightly on the curls still clenched in his fingers and Aidan hisses, nips at his skin in retaliation. 

Dean grinds his hips forward as Aidan’s teeth scrape along his collarbone, is rewarded with a choked moan and then Aidan’s rolling his hips forward to meet Dean’s in a repeated wave as he mouths hotly at Dean’s neck. Dean can’t help the soft sound escaping his lips, little exhalations and gasps and he’d cringe except Aidan seems to love it, keeps coaxing them out of him because Dean’s never like this, never this vocal.

“I need you,” he whispers shakily in Aidan’s ear and Aidan stills against him.

“Jesus,” he breathes, accent demolishing the two syllables until they’re barely recognisable and he’s got that intense look in his eyes again. Dean nuzzles against his neck, exhales softly and feels goose pimples rise against his lips as Aidan shivers slightly.

And he’s not quite sure how but he ends up pressed face first to the wall, Aidan’s breath hot against the back of his neck as he fingers Dean open (and Dean’s not even sure where Aidan got lube because he doesn’t have any in his house and the only possible answer is that Aidan brought it with him and Dean lets out a slight groan at the thought that Aidan had this all planned out).

“Fuck,” he breathes and Aidan laughs against his neck. 

“That’s the plan, darling,” he says, crooking his finger and Dean can’t stop the cry that leaves his lips. Aidan continues at an unrelenting pace, slipping in two fingers, then three, until Dean can barely keep himself upright and his mind is blank, unaware of anything except Aidan’s long fingers and the pleasure currently spiralling through his body. He grasps uselessly at the wall, fingers scrabbling across the worn paint for some kind of handhold, anything he can use to stay standing. 

And then the fingers are gone and Aidan’s pushing in with a low groan, reaching out to trap Dean’s palm against the wall and it’s too rough but Dean urges him on anyway, rolls his hips back until Aidan’s fully seated within and ignores the dull burn. They’re both still almost completely clothed and it’s messy and rushed and he can feel the scrape of Aidan’s zipper against his inner thigh, can feel sweat beginning to soak through his shirt but he doesn’t care because it’s been over a week without feeling Aidan like this and he craves it, the hastiness, the urgency. 

He realises that Aidan’s murmuring something against his shoulder and he tries to focus, tries to slow down his breathing so he can hear something apart from the quick _thud-thud_ of his heart, the roaring of blood in his ears. It’s several seconds before he realises Aidan’s saying his name over and over again, a litany of _“Dean’s”_ that has him rocking back into Aidan with a groan, free hand reaching back to tug at his curls.

“Aid,” he breathes and his voice is rough, hoarser that he expected. Aidan pants against the side of his neck in response, eyelashes brushing against Dean’s jaw. One hand is still holding Dean’s to the wall, the other curled around Dean’s waist as he rocks into him, deep thrusts that drag against his walls and leave him trembling. And then Aidan brushes against that spot inside him and Dean arches back with a high pitched cry, hand releasing Aidan’s curls to scrabble at the wall again. 

“God, Aidan,” he whimpers, turning his head to press one cheek to the cool wall to ground himself because it’s too much and he’s in danger of losing himself. 

“Tell me what you need,” Aidan breathes, placing a sloppy kiss on Dean’s mouth. “What do you want darling?”

“You,” he manages to get out and Aidan lets out his own whimper, buries his face in Dean’s hair as he pushes in again, slow and deliberate so Dean can feel every inch of him. His fingers are trembling slightly against Dean’s waist, tips digging into Dean’s skin and there’ll be marks there tomorrow, dark bruises that Aidan will kiss gently and apologise for but right now in this moment it’s a mark of possession and desire and need. 

It’s all a blur after that, a cloud of warm hands and tight fists, hard kisses and choked moans. Aidan spills inside Dean with a hoarse cry, then reaches forward to take Dean in hand, fast hard strokes that have Dean spilling over his fist in a matter of minutes. And then they make their way upstairs on shaky legs to Dean’s old bedroom and this time it’s Dean who’s in control, Dean who brings Aidan to the edge over and over again without letting him tip over until Aidan’s almost sobbing for it. 

It’s moments like these Dean wishes he could photograph and look at forever. Aidan’s clutching at his back, soft whimpers escaping from his open mouth as he tries to roll his hips up to meet Dean’s, tries to find some sense of relief and his skin is blotchy red and sweaty, muscles trembling as his body coils for release. Dean talks dirty in his ear as Aidan tightens around him, traces a finger around the stretched entrance where their bodies join and Aidan lets out a choked gasp, pleads for more in broken, disjointed sentences. 

Dean kisses him long and deep when Aidan finally comes, catches Aidan’s sobs of pleasure against his lips and they collapse back onto the bed, breathing hard and seeing white. Aidan already looks half ready to sleep, eyelids flickering shut as his body relaxes into the mattress. 

“We have to leave in a few hours,” Dean reminds him drowsily from his position sprawled atop Aidan’s chest. A pair of arms slide around his waist in response, tugging him up and closer until his head is resting beside Aidan’s on the pillow. They’re both sticky and soaked in sweat but there’s no running water, no towels, so Dean wipes them off the best he can with the edge of the bed sheets, making a note to come back the next day to replace them. They fall into an easy lull after that, fingers brushing lightly over skin, occasionally followed by lips.

“I really like your family,” Aidan eventually says, mouthing soft butterfly kisses along Dean’s breastbone. 

“They adore you,” Dean replies truthfully.

“Even Brett?”

Dean can’t help but laugh at that. 

“Even Brett,” he admits and Aidan smiles against his skin. 

“Good,” he says before snuggling against Dean. 

They fall asleep like that, tangled together atop the sheets. When they finally wake its dark and they have to blindly try and find their clothes because Dean hasn’t paid the electricity bills here in years. They sneak kisses as they dress each other, manage to slip on their pants and shirts without too much trouble. 

But it’s all for nought because their kisses grow more heated and they shed their clothes again, hands searching, bodies craving touch as they sink back onto the mattress. Dean straddles Aidan’s hips, sinks down slowly with his back arched and eyelids fluttering, reaches out blindly for Aidan’s hands, pressed palm to palm with fingers overlapping. He rides Aidan fast, using their entwined hands as momentum to lift himself up before slamming back down with a cry until his thighs are burning from the effort. Aidan curses when Dean swivels his hips, a hoarse “oh _fuck_ ” and his fingers clench down until his knuckles are white. Dean repeats the motion, lets out his own groan because Aidan’s brushing against him and it feels so good but somehow it’s still not enough. 

And then Aidan sits up suddenly, one hand sliding around to rest on Dean’s back while the other fists into the bedspread behind him. Dean winds his own arms around Aidan’s shoulders, moves to kiss him but instead ends up making little hitched gasps against Aidan’s open mouth, fingers curling into the dark locks at the base of Aidan’s skull. Aidan’s not fairing any better; he tries to tug Dean’s bottom lip between his teeth but then Dean rocks his hips slightly and Aidan’s head falls back with a low moan and Dean takes the chance to bury his face into Aidan’s neck, presses open mouthed kisses against the hot skin.

“Need you closer,” he mumbles, barely coherent. “Aid…”

“I know,” Aidan groans, fingers spreading across Dean’s back as he pulls him closer. “I know.” 

He rolls them over gently, supporting Dean’s back until he’s resting against the mattress. Dean whimpers at the loss of contact as Aidan accidentally slides out but he’s soothed by warm lips brushing against his own and then Aidan’s pushing back in with a soft sigh. His hands slide along Dean’s sides, hitch Dean’s thighs around his waist and he’s alternating between deep slow thrusts that have Dean clutching at his back in pleasure and short fast ones that leave them both trembling. The room is quiet apart from the rustle of sheets, the slide of skin on skin, the soft pants that leave their lips followed by an occasional murmur. 

“I love you,” Aidan breathes against his lips as he slides in slowly, drags out before pushing back in deeper than before with a long drawn out moan. “I love you, I love you…” and Dean echoes it back until it becomes a mantra woven between them. He can’t see anything in the room, can barely even make out Aidan’s form above him but he can feel Aidan’s fingers curled tightly around his thigh, can feel Aidan filling him until he feels whole and for now, it’s enough.

They show up at Dean’s parents place for dinner over an hour late looking utterly dishevelled; clothes rumpled, skin flushed and wearing goofy smiles that leave no doubt as to what they’ve been up to. Vicky shoots them a rather reprimanding look before informing them that they have exactly ten minutes to wash up before dinner is served. 

It’s a mad rush for the bathroom after that, a lot of pushing and shoving which proves pointless because they end up showering together anyway. And once he’s nestled with his back against Aidan’s chest under the hot water, gentle hands running soap over his body and a soft voice singing in his ear, Dean stops thinking about dinner, about the fact that they’d basically revealed to his parents that they’d had sex. Instead he relaxes into Aidan’s arms, sways slowly in time to Aidan’s voice and blocks out the rest of the world. 

 

\--

 

Eventually their two weeks are up and it’s time to resume their normal everyday lives. They get to the airport and there’s a lot of hugging and threats of great bodily pain if they don’t keep in contact. Dean watches as Aidan offers Lance a handshake, can’t stop himself from smiling when his father instead pulls Aidan in for a hug.

“You take care of him,” Vicky says quietly and Dean nods. 

“Of course.”

“And take care of yourself too.” She draws him in for a warm hug with all the comfort only a mother can provide and Dean has to close his eyes for a moment, takes a deep breath against her shoulder and tries not to think about how far he’s going. They stay like that until Lance comes over and pries them apart for his own goodbye, strong arms pulling Dean in close. He ruffles Dean’s hair slightly when they part, eyes slightly watery. 

“Call us when you get home, ok?”

“We will.”

Brett pulls them both in for a hug, one arm around each of them. 

“Don’t hurt him,” he says sternly to Aidan. 

“You have my word.” 

“And have a safe flight.”

“Thanks Brett.”

“Welcome to the family, Turner.”

Dean’s forgotten how hard it is to say goodbye, to turn around and walk towards his gate knowing he won’t see his family again for at least eight months. But this time a hand slides into his own, grips his fingers reassuringly. 

“We’ll be back in no time,” Aidan says gently, and it’s the ‘we’ more than anything that coaxes Dean towards the gate. He turns his head to see his family waving frantically at both of them and he can’t help but smile at the sight. Beside him, Aidan’s waving back with just as much enthusiasm and something in Dean’s stomach does a little swoop. He waves back and then they head to their gate, to the plane that will take them back to London. To his home with Aidan.

 

\--

 

One of first things Dean does when they get back home is buy an engagement ring. He’s not going to ask Aidan, not yet; it’s not the right time. But he knows he wants to spend the rest of his life with Aidan; he thinks he’s known for quite some time, really. And when the right moment does come along, whenever it may be, he wants to be ready for it.


End file.
